


These flowers you gave me are rotting, but I refuse to throw them away

by VisualSnow



Category: Be More Chill, bmc - Fandom
Genre: All hurt no comfort, Also HAHA my title is lame af, Angst, Blood, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, but you could probably tell already, i love him so I make him Suffer(tm), i only use like two tagalong words so like, if I messed it up yell at me, pining!Michael, spoiler alert: Michael dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 18:30:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11363166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisualSnow/pseuds/VisualSnow
Summary: The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals.





	These flowers you gave me are rotting, but I refuse to throw them away

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooo! This was just a random plot bunny I had last night, so I thought "what the hell? Might as well!" Please kudos/comment if you like this!!! (If you do, I will LITERALLY love you 5ever)

_The Hanahaki Disease is an illness born from one-sided love, where the patient throws up and coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. The infection can be removed through surgery, but the feelings disappear along with the petals._

______

Michael hates how beautiful it is, the pain that comes from love. The poetic beauty that came when you cherished someone so much, but they just don't see it. He'd seen it before, just twelve years old, when his tiya chesa had collapsed at dinner one night, tiny purple blossoms mixed with blood spilling out of her mouth.

“Why?” He'd asked, holding her hand as the heart machines beeping grew slower. “Why didn't you get the surgery?”

She'd smiled, a weak, frail, smile. “You'll understand when you're older, _dayong_. I hope this disease never takes you, but I do hope you will love someone so dearly you wouldn't care if it killed you.”

She'd died that night, and the one she'd loved never knew how dear they'd been to her. Michael had been bitter, so bitter, at everything that day. His tiya, the one she’d pined for, the doctors, the disease. He hadn't understood why she'd just accepted her death like that. So what if the feelings disappeared? So what if she'd forget? Nothing was worth dying for, not like that. But now, now he knew. He knew what it meant to love someone so much that without them

The stupidly perfect petals clog his throat as he bends over the bathroom toilet, coughing and gagging and watching the delicate blue and white flowers swirl around the water. So beautiful, so deadly. He googled them awhile ago, when the symptoms had just started to rear their ugly heads. Hardy blue geraniums, which was fitting, because blue was Jeremy's favorite colour.

“Like the sky?” Michael had asked when they were younger, and lay on a blanket with nothing but clouds and sky and trees in sight.

“No, not the sky.” Jeremy had replied. “Like… like the middle of a flame. It's deep and warm and… alive.”

Michael had accidentally burned the tip of his nose that night, trying to get as close as he could to the candle in his room.

These flowers were almost that exact same blue that Jeremy had thought of so dearly. Some were a pure, deep azure, while others had veins of white. Some were entirely a pure white, glowing against the inky backdrop of their fellow blossoms. If he was lucky, he had about two months left, maybe three. Blood hadn't yet began to mingle with the flowers, which meant he still had time.

He’d almost told his mother, the day it first started. He'd been tempted, so tempted. But he knew that she'd force him to get the surgery, that he'd wake up and feel a part of himself missing forever. So he'd kept it quiet, and hugged her a little tighter every night before bed.

He finally understood why his tiya had chosen to die. The way he talked, the way his hair flipped a bit at the ends, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Michael knew he couldn't give up the feelings that were rooted deeper than the flowers in his lungs.

A banging startled him for his thoughts, and he jerked away from the toilets rim. “Yeah?” He called out, hoping the roughness of his voice wouldn't be questioned.

“Dude, hurry up in there! The games been paused for like, ten minutes!”

“Sorry, bro!” Michael called out, hurriedly flushing every shred of evidence down the drain. “Just zoned out a bit, y’know?” He

“Yeah yeah, don't stress about it.” Jeremy replied, slumping into a bean bag chair and tossing Michael his remote. “Now, lets show these zombies who's in charge!”

Michael smiled, and suppresses the cough building in his throat.

______

_“Get out of my way, loser”_

Jeremy's words echoed in Michael's mind, scratching painfully against his skull. He steps aside numbly, and watches as the person he loves so dearly pushes him aside like he's garbage.

“ _It's not him,”_ he thinks, _“it's the fuckkng robot in his brain. It's not him, not him, not him.”_

But emotion still churns in his stomach, and he feels like he's drowning in air. His thoughts are halted, however, by a violent cough wracking his body.

He throws open the toilet lid and heaves into the bowl, gagging on the taste of plant life mixed with blood. The wine-coloured splatters had appeared a week ago, and Michael knew the time was coming. He just hoped it wouldn't come so soon.

The dark blue and startling white of the flowers contrast against the pool of red they float in. Tears overflow, and drip down his cheeks as he struggles for air through the sea of red and blue. He drags himself away from the toilet’s edge and leans against the wall, not caring about the little bits of blood and petals that come pouring out of his mouth every few seconds. Why should he? His time was up anyways. And Jeremy would never know. He struggles to breathe through the thick flowers crowding in his chest. As his eyes flickered closed, he vaguely heard someone banging on the bathroom door, yelling something. But the thick wooden door and his oxygen deprived brain muffled the voice of whoever it was. As his eyes dipped closed for the last time, he thinks of Jeremy, and he smiles.

And then, darkness.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> UwU anyways I hope you liked that!!! Sorry for any typos, im hella bad a proofreading my own shit


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